Forced to Love
by Nephthys Moon
Summary: There is a crisis in the Wizarding Community. In order to stop it, the Ministry must take drastic action. Minister Scrimgouer passes a legislation to preserve the Magical World, but what will the effects be on the witches and wizards of Britain.
1. Prologue The Vote Is In

Percy Weasley, still languishing in his position as Junior Assistant to the Minister, was flabbergasted. As Junior Assistant, he was required to perform many menial tasks. One of these assignments was Scribe for the Wizengamot. Though the duty had never caused him to pace his broom-closet of an office before, today's vote had been particularly exciting. Left. Right. Left. Right. Percy turned at the wall on either side of his desk and continued his disturbed gait. _Rufus Scrimgeour is absolutely crazy if he thinks he can pull this off_, Percy thought. This was the new Marriage Law, put into effect just that morning by the vote of the full court of the Wizengamot.

For three years, there had been something of a crisis in the Wizarding Community. The Squib birth rate was on the rise. It had been slowly rising for some fifty years, and was now at an all time high of one in ten. One of every ten children born to a witch or wizard was a Squib. Percy understood the crisis. A Squib had no place in society, either wizarding society or the Muggle world. They were different from both, and unable to live in either satisfactorily. Raised around magic, most chose to live in the wizarding community, creating a drain on the Ministry's already plummeting resources. Without the abilities of those around them, they were unable to secure well-paying jobs to support themselves and their families.

Since its creation, the Ministry had survived on donations from wealthy supporters and a healthy account at Gringotts. Rebuilding since the fall of Voldemort, however, had drained much of that account, and many of the wealthy supporters were now in prison. Their inheritors were unlikely to support an organization that had incarcerated their loved ones. Many within the community were calling for an execution of all Squibs. There was a law from the early years of the Ministry, when it was still mired in superstition, which allowed for the death of all Squibs. The Ministry was facing a dilemma of instituting a tax for the first time in its history to support a population that wasn't legally allowed to exist.

In order to find the cause of the rise in Squib births, the Ministry had hired Augustus Pye, recently verified Healer and Muggle Doctor. Pye spent over a year and more than ten thousand Galleons studying all four blood types: Purebloods, Muggle-borns, Squibs, and Halfbloods (which was really a term used to describe a witch or wizard who didn't fit into any of the other types). Once his study was completed, Pye conferred with the Minister for nearly two months, resulting in the morning vote of the Wizengamot. There, Augustus had presented his findings. It had long been known that wizards, all wizards, had a larger frontal lobe of the brain than that of Muggles. Until Pye's research, however, no one knew why this was.

Pye explained the combination of Muggle science and magical methods he'd used on the various blood types to isolate the hormone responsible for the growth. He was calling this hormone Pisces. This hormone was apparently absent in the brains of Muggles. Squibs had it, but the hormone was missing a crucial piece, rendering it useless, and the Squib magicless. Oddly enough, the Halfbloods and Muggle-borns had the highest count of the hormone, while the Purebloods were carrying a weakened hormone. Pye explained that most Purebloods were merely one generation away from being Squibs.

He went on to show how years of inbreeding had weakened the genetic code of the Purebloods and years of refusing to add fresh blood into the mix was weakening the hormone's effectiveness. He stood in front of the Wizengamot, many of them the last remaining Purebloods, and proclaimed that the policy of blood marrying blood to produce blood had slowly caused the crisis the community now faced. There had been a great outcry at this, and then, the Minister stood.

"Members of the Wizengamot, you have been called here today to vote on a measure the Ministry is prepared to take in order to preserve the community." At these words, a silence fell, one so thick you could taste the tension. Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic, pulled a scroll from the inner reaches of his robes.

Unfurling the ivory parchment, he began to read, "Legislation number 62598: The Marriage Law. Effective August 1, all males of legal age will be required to submit a Marriage Contract, declaring their intent to marry the legal aged female of their choice. In order to combat the growing problem of rising Squib birth rates, no same-blood marriages will be permitted. All contracts must be submitted no later than August 31, for Ministry approval by Chief of Contracts, Augustus Pye. All unmarried witches and wizards are required to submit to a blood test at St. Mungo's no later than August 31. Should more than one Contract be issued for a single female, the Contracting males will be notified of the date and time for a Dispute Trial, in which all involved will be permitted to present their case to a court of seven. These seven will consist of elders of the Wizengamot and will vote at the end of each Trial to determine which of the Contracts shall be validated by the Minister, and which shall be rejected. Any persons not entered into a legal Contract by August 31 will have a suitable marriage arranged by the Ministry. Signed, Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic."

The silence continued. Many sat, dumbfounded by the Decree. The Minister continued.

"Healer Pye will review each Contract and the corresponding blood tests. If the marriage is likely to result in a Squib birth, it will be rejected."

Percy had diligently taken notes, positive that the law would never be approved. To his amazement, a majority vote verified the Decree into Law ten minutes later. The Minister scheduled an interview with the Prophet, and Percy had gone deep into the bowels of the Ministry to retrieve the Golden Book.

The Golden Book was over a thousand years old. Typically used by Minerva McGonagall in these times, a magical quill transcribed the name and family tree of each witch or wizard born in Britain. Percy opened the Book to the Weasley family tree. Tracing the golden words on the page, he thought of the legacy of love his family had shown throughout the years. It would be no more – marriages would be based on blood, not love. Percy despised it. He placed the Book in his desk drawer, and then enchanted the drawer to open only for him. He would present Pye with the Book. If he was to determine the suitability of the proposed marriages, combining wizarding genealogy and his magical blood tests would be the most accurate way to determine the validity of a Contract.

Percy was certain the Prophet would carry the details of the new law to the public the next morning. He sat in his comfortable chair and picked up the pale blue parchment that would be winging its way to every overage, unmarried wizard by week's end. Staring at the page, Percy realized that he, too, would be affected by this law. For several hours, he sat at his desk, mentally reviewing every female of his acquaintance.

At last, he came upon a name. A suitable girl, she would not trouble him for affection he couldn't give. Percy carried a secret, and he could trust this girl to keep it for him. If revealed, this secret could ruin him, his career and his family. Dipping his quill into a black inkbottle, he began to fill in the lines on his Contract.


	2. 1 The Blue Parchment

Ginny Weasley was sitting at her best friend's breakfast table, sipping a cup of tea. The sunlight filtered in through the pale yellow curtains and a small house elf named Prongs was making breakfast. Prongs had been a gift from Harry, though Hermione had promptly freed her, and Prongs was now the highest-paid elf in the country. The tantalising aroma of bacon filled the kitchen, but Ginny was oblivious to her surroundings.

All of her attention was focused on the article in front of her. Each word added to the growing dread she'd felt when she'd unfurled the paper and read the headline, which proclaimed: **Ministry Passes Law To Save Our World**. The by-line was Rita Skeeter and the article filled three pages.

The Ministry announced a surprising new law yesterday to regulate the frightening rise in nationwide Squib births. The Marriage Law requires each young man seventeen or older put a Marriage Contract on a woman of a different blood type.

This shocking decree has caused an outcry among witches and wizards of all blood types. Augustus Pye, Healer and newly appointed Chief of Contracts, attempted to explain how intermarriages, carefully regulated, can reduce -

Ginny got no further. With a pleasant, "Good Morning," Hermione entered the breakfast nook at her house in Hogsmeade. Pouring herself a cup of tea and accepting a plate of bacon sandwiches from Prongs, she looked at Ginny. Seeing the distraught expression on the younger woman's face, concern filled her eyes.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"This," Ginny spat, tossing the newspaper across the round wooden table. Sitting in the other chair, Hermione read the article, her lips forming a silent mew of shock.

"They can't," she whispered.

"They did," Ginny responded bitterly. "I don't know what you're worried about. Ron will Contract you and everything will be rosy in your life. There's no one I want to marry, not since -" she stopped abruptly. She never spoke to anyone of that night. She'd simply returned home, packed her trunk and joined her brother Charlie in Romania.

Hermione frowned. Ginny needed to go back. She'd just arrived the night before, and no one knew yet that she'd come to town. If _he_ found out, he'd put a Contract on her for spite and tie her to him. Ginny's face reflected the same fears.

"It's a good thing I haven't unpacked." She flicked her wand in the direction of Hermione's spare bedroom and continued, "I'm sorry to leave, but if I stay…"

"I know." Hermione gave Ginny a quick hug. At that moment, an owl swooped out of the fireplace, freezing both girls in place. The owl was carrying a pale blue scroll. Ginny trembled. Gently pushing her back into the chair, Hermione retrieved the letter. As she suspected, it was a Contract, but the name on the line labelled 'Bride' wasn't Ginny's.

"WHAT!" she bellowed, dropping the parchment. Startled, Ginny bent to retrieve it. It clearly stated that Hermione had been Contracted and she was to report to St. Mungo's for the necessary blood tests within a week. A gasp escaped her lips as she read the groom's tightly controlled signature: Viktor Krum.

Hermione's face was pale. Viktor had moved to London four years before to accept a teaching post at Hogwarts. He'd been hoping to reunite with Hermione, but found that she was dating Ron and wasn't interested in renewing their former tie. Ginny, two years out of Hogwarts herself, had gone on a few uneventful dates with him, a fact she'd hidden from Hermione. She now wondered if that had been the right thing to do.

She picked up the discarded newspaper. "Listen to this, 'If two or more wizard's attempt to Contract the same witch, all parties will be summoned to a Dispute Trial, during which one claim will be validated,'" she read. "Hermione, Ron can still Contract you, and if Viktor doesn't withdraw his claim, Ron's sure to win the Trial! He's English and you've been together for ages. Viktor's a Bulgarian, and most of the community still doesn't trust him because he went to Durmstrang."

A tiny glimmer of hope lit Hermione's eyes. She wiped away the beginnings of a tear and smiled. Honestly, Ginny wasn't all that sure Ron would win. Viktor was a Hogwarts professor, while Ron's biggest achievement to date was his promotion to Head Clerk at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Still, Ginny's reassurance seemed to make Hermione feel a bit better.

"You'd better go," she said shakily.

"I'll send you an owl in a few days," Ginny told her, giving her one last hug. "Don't worry. He doesn't know where to find me." With that, she turned on the spot and disappeared.

Hermione sighed. She knew Ginny couldn't have stayed, not with this law out there, but she wished for her best friend's presence at the trial she knew was sure to come. Viktor would never withdraw his claim – she knew that as surely as she knew what would happen once she arrived at work. If the Contracts required Ministry approval, then everyone in her department was sure to know that Viktor was Contracting her. It was just a matter of time before Ron showed up, ready to challenge him to a duel. Before, she would have counted on Harry to make Ron see reason, but now…

Mentally, she shook herself. She'd better get dressed. She pulled her hair into a rather sloppy bun and pulled a set of plain green work robes from her closet. She dressed quickly. It wouldn't do for the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to be late for work. She'd risen to the position of department head when she'd succeeded in freeing the house elves. After years of enslavement, her work with S.P.E.W. had finally paid off. The elves were free, receiving fair wages and benefits. She hurried to the fireplace. Prongs was nowhere to be seen. Shrugging, she grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder from her crystal vase on the mantle (it had been a housewarming gift from her now estranged parents) and tossed it into the flames.

"Ministry of Magic Atrium," she shouted. The fire roared for a moment and then receded. Hermione was gone.


	3. 2 A Frightening Day

Harry sat in his living room, staring at the fire. He always had a fire lit these days. It kept the chill from the room and drove the shadows to the corners where they belonged, where he had banished them. A tap came from the window. Looking up, Harry saw a beautiful tawny owl.

He sighed, set the small glass of firewhiskey on the spindly table next to his chair and crossed the room to the window. When he opened it, the owl flew to his chair, dropped the letter and flew back out. Walking back to his seat, Harry recognized the distinctive purple parchment. It could only mean one thing; the Ministry had sent the letter. Half-tempted to tear it up, he sighed instead. It had been many months since they had contacted him, and he preferred that. Once his drinking habits became public knowledge, he'd gone from the Boy-Who-Lived to someone the Ministry wanted to dissociate itself from.

He picked up the letter, wondering what they wanted with him now, broke the seal and began to read:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

You are hereby informed that you have precisely one month to enter into a Marriage Contract with the Pureblood Witch of your choice. Should you fail to comply, a suitable marriage will be arranged for you. A full copy of the Marriage Law has been included for your perusal. In order for your Contract to be approved, you must submit it to the Ministry no later than August the 31. May I be the first to congratulate you on your upcoming nuptials.

Sincerely,  
Augustus Pye  
Chief Healer 

_What the bloody hell?_ Harry reread the letter, trying to wrap his whiskey-soaked brain around the words. Though they appeared a bit blurry to him, as though the person writing the letter had forgotten to blot the ink, he was fairly certain he'd read them correctly. He quickly removed the second sheet of parchment and read it. It clearly stated the Marriage Law, and Harry began to wonder what idiocy the Ministry was up to. He shook the envelope and a pale blue sheet of parchment fell out. Picking it up, he saw that it was the Contract he was supposed to place on a Pureblood witch.

_No one in their right mind would marry me,_ he thought sourly. He crumpled the Contract and threw it into the flames. The rest of the letter soon followed. He wasn't getting married. He wasn't passing his blood on to anyone else.

Peering into the shadows as he went, he crossed the room and opened another bottle. Though the remaining bit of civilisation in him rebelled, he tossed the crystal into the fire as well. The flames grew brighter as the final drops of alcohol caught. Harry smiled as he brought the bottle to his lips.

Ron Weasley stood behind the counter of the store, carefully filling in the blank lines on the blue Contract in front of him. When he was finished, he motioned to the miniature owl to come to him. Tying the scroll to Pig's leg, he instructed the bird to take the letter to the Ministry immediately. The bird chirped and flew out the door as Dean Thomas opened it.

"Hey, Ron!" he called. Dean worked at Gringotts as a Muggle Money Recirculator. "Did you hear?"

"Hear what?" Ron asked. He was used to this. Most of his friends had interesting, high-paying jobs, while all he'd been able to do was work for his brothers.

"Hermione's been Contracted," Dean began.

"By who?"

"Yeah, I thought it was you, 'course, so when they told me it was Krum, well, I thought I'd come over here straightaway and tell you."

"Viktor Krum?" Ron asked, his voice dangerously soft. "International Quidditch Legend, Hogwarts Professor and Hermione's ex-boyfriend? That Krum?" Ron's face was slowly turning red.

"Hey, it's alright, mate," Dean said reassuringly. "Didn't you read the _Prophet_? You can still Contract her – there will be a trial to see who gets her."

Ron's face faded. "I won't win anyway. Krum's famous and I'm just a nobody."

"Hey, that's not true. You've killed Death Eaters, and helped destroy You-Know-Who. You're in all the history books. The only book he'll ever be in is the fifty-seventh edition of _Quidditch Through the Ages_," Dean said scathingly.

Dean had taken over in the best friend department, but Ron missed Harry. He'd realized, years ago, that he'd rather be Harry's sidekick and in his shadow than to have anyone else for a best friend. Of course, being Ron, he'd never be able to articulate it, but he felt it all the same. He hadn't had a choice in the matter, however. Harry had shut himself off from the world a year after defeating Voldemort, tormented by demons only he could see. They'd tried to help, he, Hermione and Ginny, but then Ginny had left, and Harry had refused to see anyone. He hadn't left his home in three years.

"Don't worry about it, Ron," Dean said, misunderstanding Ron's silence. "You'll win the trial." Ron looked at the darkening sky.

"I've got to close up, Dean. Want to go to the Hog's Head with me?" Ron asked.

"Can't, mate. I've got a date with Pansy tonight," Dean told him.

"Oh, yeah. Well, I'll see you at home, then."

After Dean left, Ron doused the lights and locked the doors. He didn't much fancy having a drink alone; it reminded him too forcibly of Harry, drinking firewhiskey and raving at shadows. Ron put his head in his hands and sighed.

Romania – the one place Ginny felt self. Here, working with dragons, no one cared that she'd once dated the famous Harry Potter. They were grateful for her role in the downfall of Voldemort, yes, but no one stared. She lived peaceably with the other Dragon-Keepers in a small, drafty castle at the edge of the preserve. Ginny worked in the nursery, helping abandoned eggs hatch. In many ways, it reminded her of herself, abandoned, still waiting for her life to begin.

_Stop that! You weren't abandoned, you left them, remember?_

As she did each morning, she put on protective gloves, cast a Fire-Retardant Charm on herself and prepared to leave her bedroom. As she reached the door, an owl, black as night, soared through the window. Seeing the blue scroll tied to its leg, she shuddered. How did he find her? Surely, he didn't think she'd allow him to get away with this? The years had dampened her anger and hate, replacing them with pity. This occasion, however, caused the anger and betrayal to renew themselves, forcing pity to the side. Trembling, she released the bird's burden and watched him fly off. Dropping the scroll on her cherry nightstand, she marched to the dining hall.

The chattering of her co-workers soothed her nerves and she looked around the room. She would have to leave. She couldn't imagine how he'd found her, but if he knew where she was, she was no longer safe. With a sigh, she took an open seat next to her brother and ate her breakfast in silence. Charlie looked over at her, concerned, but she shook her head. She didn't want to be questioned. She'd leave quietly, just as soon as breakfast was finished. 

Viktor stood alone in his study. Four years ago, when he'd seen the advertisement for the Defence teacher at Hogwarts, all he could think of was seeing Hermione again. When he'd arrived in London to realise she was with that baboon's backside, Ron Weasley, he began plotting an accidental death for the bastard. For two years, he'd schemed. Then, one night, he'd gone into Hogsmeade the day after summer term ended. There was Weasley's sister, sitting alone at the bar in the Three Broomsticks, looking forlorn and alone. Viktor sat down next to her.

During the brief time they'd dated, he'd abandoned his plans to kill her brother. Eventually, he'd decided that he still loved Hermione and she was in love with Potter. When they'd parted, he'd renewed his ideas. He'd been two days from following through on them when he'd received his blank Contract. Quickly, he'd filled the page and taken it directly to Augustus Pye. It had been immediately approved, pending blood tests. Viktor wasn't worried on that end, she was certainly descended from Muggles, and his blood was the purest in Bulgaria.

He stopped in front of the fireplace in his gloomy study and sat in his hard wooden chair. "You vill be mine, Herm-own-ninny."


	4. 3 Revelations

When Hermione arrived home, Ron was sitting on her doorstep. "I suppose you've heard, then?"

"You're damn right I heard!" Ron bellowed. A light came on in an upstairs window across the street. Shushing him, Hermione pushed open the door and forced him inside. "I'm sorry," he began. "I just can't believe that Bulgarian bastard has the audacity to do this!" he complained. "It's all your fault, you know," he added petulantly.

Hermione froze in the act of removing her cloak. "My fault? Exactly how is it my fault?"

"If you hadn't encouraged him years ago, he wouldn't still be stuck on you: all those letters, the Yule Ball – bloody hell, Hermione, you snogged him!"

"Ronald Weasley, are you jealous?" Hermione giggled.

"No! I'm angry at you!" Ron denied. Seeing the knowing look on his girlfriend's face, he admitted, "Well, maybe a little."

"Then come upstairs with me, and I'll prove that you have nothing to worry about." Still giggling, she took Ron's hand and led him to the bedroom.

The next morning, Hermione gave the still sleeping Ron a quick kiss and left for work. When she arrived, she nearly dropped her tea at the sight of Ginny sitting on her desk, a blue scroll in her hand.

"How did he find you?" she asked, foregoing a greeting. "It wasn't Luna, was it?" Personally, Hermione had always thought Luna was a bit dotty, but she'd never suspected the girl would betray Ginny, one of her few friends.

"Of course it wasn't Luna. In fact, it's not even him." Ginny looked distinctly uncomfortable as she passed the scroll to Hermione. Setting down her tea, she scanned the document.

"Smith?" she shouted, startled.

"Yeah, I'm a lucky girl, aren't I?" Ginny muttered sarcastically.

"Oh, you poor thing. This is worse than…"

"Harry," finished Ginny. An uncomfortable silence fell. While Hermione suspected that Ginny pitied Harry in his madness, she wasn't to that point yet. She believed the young girl had every reason to fear Harry after that night and couldn't imagine why she was sitting in the Ministry, clearly visible.

"Why did you come back?" she asked.

"I had to speak to my future husband, of course," Ginny's eyes twinkled.

"You didn't!" a shocked Hermione whispered.

"I did," Ginny confirmed. "Bat-bogey Hex. I haven't used that in years. I was afraid I'd forget how, honestly, but it worked beautifully." She chuckled at the memory.

"You strolled into the Magical Law Enforcement office and hexed an Auror?" Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "Why weren't you arrested?"

"I was a bit worried I would, but apparently, that stupid git is just as unpopular now as he was at school. They all just cheered."

"Only you could get away with that." Hermione had always envied Ginny her brashness and courage, but there were times she couldn't decide if those were the things that kept her out of trouble, or if it was her more obvious physical assets. In this case, Hermione guessed it was probably the latter, as the Minister had forbidden women from becoming Aurors nearly three years before. He'd said the community couldn't watch anymore of its mothers die in battle. In an office full of men, good looks and large breasts will get you farther than bravado any day.

"They _were_ a bit sorry to see me go," Ginny grinned.

"Stop that!" Hermione chided. Ginny had learned Legilimency and it had become a habit for her to scan the thoughts of those around her. It irritated Hermione, for Ginny was one of the few people she allowed past her mental guard.

"Hopefully, now Smith will change his mind," Ginny said smugly.

"If he doesn't, you'll have to marry him. You'll be put in Azkaban if you don't."

"Then I'll go to Azkaban," Ginny said, shuddering. Faced with the decision to serve the Ministry or be destroyed for their revolt, the Dementors had resumed their post at the prison. Rumour had it that they were more vicious than ever.

"Someone else will Contract you, you do realize that, right? What will you do? Hex them all?" Hermione asked seriously.

"Maybe," Ginny whispered. Before Hermione could comment, an owl flew into her office, deposited a blue scroll and flew back out. "That'll be from my brother." Ginny smirked.

Blushing furiously, Hermione opened the Contract. Her smile froze in place. "It's from your brother, alright, but it isn't from Ron."

"But the only other one of my brothers who isn't married is – no! Not Percy!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Percy," Hermione confirmed, holding the scroll out to her friend.

Ginny wandered down Diagon Alley alone. After advising Hermione to curse Percy, she'd left the Ministry. Seeing Zacharias' name on the Contract instead of Harry's had made her realise she'd been silly all these years. Harry wasn't coming after her. He hadn't that night, nor had he attempted to since. It had been arrogant of her to assume he'd still want her. If Hermione was right, and she always was, Harry was so far into the bottle by now that he probably didn't even remember her name. She'd wasted years of her life hiding away.

Well, it wasn't a total waste, she realised. She'd learned quite a lot of things as a Dragon-Keeper, and she was sure it would help her get a job. She could probably work for the Ministry if she wanted to. Hermione would probably hire her, but she wasn't sure that was the route she wanted to take. She'd been about to start her first year of teaching Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts when she fled, but she was certain that position had been filled.

She walked along, looking at the various flats advertised in that morning's edition of the paper. Nothing really caught her fancy, so she decided that for the time being, she'd just go home. The cosy clutter of the Burrow sounded wonderful after three years in a barren castle.

Harry's snores filled his darkened living room. A loud rap on the door startled him awake. He pulled his wand, walked to the door and pulled it open.

"_Expelliarmus!_", he shouted, pointing his wand at the figure on the stoop. Percy's form fell backwards. "Sorry," he said, holding out his hand to the older man. Percy stood without assistance, rubbing his backside.

"Well, I was here to ask you a favour," Percy began. Seeing the scowl on Harry's face, he quickly, "Not for the Minister. It's for me."

The shreds of decency remaining in Harry forced him to open the door and allow Percy to enter his home. He closed it immediately. "What do you want, Percy?"

"Harry, I know you have – problems. I know there was a situation awhile back and you went to Azkaban. I know what you did. I've read all the reports, and I have to say that I feel sorry for you –"

"Well, don't!" Harry interrupted.

"The point I am trying to make is that despite what you've done, I still think you are the best man to Contract Ginny."

"You can't possibly be serious."

"Harry, please. Zacharias Smith submitted his Contract yesterday."

"Percy, I'm not husband material," Harry said darkly.

"Harry, you killed a dangerous criminal. Several, as a matter of fact. You can't keep letting it ruin you life!" Percy exclaimed shortly.

"I killed an innocent man. He wasn't a Death Eater. He assisted a suicide – he didn't murder anyone. And I killed him. I'm a murderer. I should still be in Azkaban!"

"Harry, you were tried for the death of Severus Snape, by the full court of the Wizengamot – at your own request. You presented evidence against yourself. Despite Snape's innocence in one murder – which was debatable even then – he was still guilty of countless others, not to mention treason and conspiracy to commit murder – your murder, Harry. And every single person in that courtroom was thankful you rid the community of him."

"I don't care what they thought. He wasn't a murderer and I killed him. I didn't kill Voldemort, but I killed Snape. And in case you've forgotten, I nearly killed Ginny. I can't marry her!"

"Then you will get your wish. Anyone who doesn't abide by the new law is to be sent to Azkaban until they are prepared to comply," Percy informed him testily.

"You're not serious?" Harry asked incredulously.

"The Minister felt it would impress upon the community the seriousness of the situation," Percy added pompously. Harry decided he'd had about enough.

"I think it's time you left," he told Percy.

At the door, Percy turned. "Harry, if you ever loved my sister, please, Contract her. Smith will take pleasure in having her under his thumb. As an Auror, he's considered above the law. No matter what he does to her, I can't stop him. Just do it, and then she can go back to Romania, where she belongs."

"Good-bye, Percy," Harry said dismissively. Percy stepped through the doorway and disappeared. Harry picked up his discarded bottle and raised it to his lips. Disgusted with himself, he put the bottle down. _Ginny,_ he thought.

Making a resolution, he sat down at his desk in the corner, took out parchment, ink and a quill. Hands shaking, he began to write a letter to the one person who might still help him. It was a difficult letter to write, but after crumbling six attempts, he finally felt he had the proper mix of humility and desperation. He sat back in his chair, trembling, and waited for Hedwig to return from her hunt.

Hermione arrived to a dark house. _Ron must be at the Hog's Head,_ she thought absently. She opened her front door and listened. There were sounds of a struggle from the kitchen, and she thought she heard Prongs swearing. She rushed to the back of the house and stared at the sight that met her eyes. Prongs was shouting obscenities at a beautiful snowy owl, which she was clearly trying to retrieve a letter from. The owl in question was refusing to relinquish the scroll and had perched out of reach on top of the mantle.

"Hedwig?" Hermione asked, confused. The owl hooted affirmatively and flew to the arm Hermione stretched out. She dismissed Prongs and rubbed the owl's neck affectionately. Hedwig held out her leg. Hermione pulled the scroll off, and the bird nipped her playfully and flew up the chimney.

Opening the scroll, Hermione whispered, "Harry." She quickly scanned the letter. When she reached the end, she reread it in disbelief, trying to ascertain that she'd understood it. She had. The letter fluttered to the table as Hermione collapsed into a chair.

_Dear Hermione,_

I'm sorry. I've wronged you – I've wronged all of my friends. But most of all, I wronged Ginny. I'm desperate and I need your help. Please come by as soon as you receive this. I'm begging you, in the name of friendship.

Harry

She sat at the table, staring at the letter. An hour later, Ron stumbled in, reeking of mead and supported by Ginny.

"Who's that from?" he asked suspiciously. His words were a bit slurred. Ginny dropped him unceremoniously into the chair opposite Hermione and picked up the letter.

"Harry," she whispered.

"Ginny, isn't it about time you got over that piece of hippogriff droppings?" Ron looked up at his sister through slightly bleary eyes.

"I am – the letter, Ron. It's from Harry," she explained.

"Give me that!" Ron snatched the letter, straining to read it, he finally asked, "Hermione, what did he want?"

"I don't know. I haven't gone yet," she murmured.

"You will go, though. Won't you?" Ron sounded anxious.

"Of course. Harry was my best friend for eight years. I'm not going to abandon him now, when he obviously needs my help." The superiority had returned to her voice.

"Don't go," Ginny whispered pleadingly.

"I have to. I'll be back soon." Hermione activated the Floo Network and stepped into the flames. A moment later, she was gone.

"Prongs will get Master and Miss a pot of tea. Mistress will come back, and she will want her tea," the tiny elf said, entering the room and bustling towards the stove.

"Why didn't you want her to go, Ginny?" Ron asked with uncharacteristic shrewdness.

"That's a long story for another time," she replied shortly.

"Ginny, I know he almost killed you, but he wasn't right in his head at the time. He went to Azkaban for six months. I know why you left; you were scared of him. I've never blamed you for that – but this is more than that."

"Damn you, Ron!" Ginny shouted. "Just leave it alone!"

"No," he persisted. "There's more to it than what I know. Something else made you run and Harry's involved. You always did act a bit oddly around him. The Ginny I grew up with would never have run away."

"Why?" she pled. "So you can confront him and get yourself killed? He's not the same, Ron. You can't help him."

"What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

"You really want to know?" He nodded. "Fine. You know I was getting ready for my second year teaching Care of Magical Creatures. I was spending most of my time that summer over at Harry's, working at the desk in the living room while he moralised over his firewhiskey. Well, sometimes, when I got there, things would be broken; lamps and glasses, things like that. If I asked about it, Harry would always mutter something about Snape and I would just nod and ignore it. I shouldn't have. That night…" Ginny shuddered.


	5. 4 Memories and More

_Ginny had arrived that night at Harry's house in Godric's Hollow in a wonderful mood. It had been a calm, clear evening, giving her no warning of the turmoil that she would soon meet. Standing at the door, she'd heard the sound of shattering glass and pulled her wand. Cautiously, she'd opened the door, calling Harry's name._

The sitting room had been destroyed. The oak end tables had been overturned and the plush arm chairs they'd sat in companionably so many evenings before had been shredded. Broken glass had crunched under her feet. The room had smelled very strongly of liquor, and she'd noticed that the walls were soaked in the firewhiskey that once sat on the shelf above the table. Harry stood in a corner, firing spells at an invisible opponent. His eyes gleamed with a malevolent glitter and his usually calm face was pale, sweaty and hard. His scar burned harshly red in the whiteness.

He'd shot a Stunning Spell at her. Her head hit the edge of the doorframe and a black mantle covered her vision. The rest of the evening slipped in and out of the darkness. She'd come to briefly to see Harry at the foot a bed she was now tied to, naked and raging at Bellatrix while talking to her. It had taken a few minutes to realize he'd thought she was Bellatrix. When she'd tried to plead with him, make him hear realize that she wasn't, he'd cast a Silencing Charm on her. She'd watched, mute, as he climbed on top of her and forced her. He'd muttered incoherent things about besmirching her pure-blood.

She'd blacked out again. When awoke the next time, he was dressed, staring at her with distaste in his eyes. Ginny had retreated into the inner recesses of her own mind. This person couldn't be her beloved Harry. She knew that she'd wake up to find it a dream. Then, he'd smiled, an evil smile worthy of Voldemort himself. It was cold and lacked real humour.

"I'm going to kill you now, Bellatrix," he'd said dispassionately. He may have been discussing the weather. "I'm going to kill you with my bare hands you murdering bitch and leave your body for your master to find." He'd wrapped both hands around her neck while she lay there, limp with shock, torn robes bunched around her waist. When the blackness claimed her again, she'd welcomed it.

"When I woke up," she told Ron, returning to the present, "Harry was crying. He begged me to help him, insisted that he hadn't known it was me until his vision cleared of the red fog that had been covering it. I was free from the bonds and my robes had been pulled down. I ran down the stairs, out the door and Disapparated as quickly as I could. I came home, and I showered. I must have been in there for hours, just trying to wash the memories away. I left for Romania that night," she finished dully. She was a veteran of the worst war – the war between men and madness. The damage couldn't be seen on her body, but her heart and soul were scarred beyond repair.

Ron watched his baby sister in disbelief. Harry had done this? He'd known that Harry had tried to kill Ginny in one of his insane rages, thinking she was Bellatrix Lestrange, who had been dead for many years, but he hadn't known the rest. Suddenly, realisation hit and he stood.

"Hermione's with that madman now!" he roared, immediately Disapparating. Ginny followed, knowing he was headed to Godric's Hollow to rescue Hermione from his former best friend.

Hermione knocked timidly on the weather-beaten wooden door of Harry's house. When it opened, the first thing Hermione noticed was his wand pointed at her face.

"Oh, Hermione – it's you," he said hoarsely.

"Yes, you goose, it's me," she snapped. "Now put that wand away and tell me what you want!"

He lowered his wand and stood aside so she could enter. "Thank you for coming," he muttered.

"Harry," she said gently, "You look terrible." He did, too. A growth of beard that must have been at least a month old covered his face, which was white as parchment and glistened with a fine sheen of sweat. His eyes were unfocused, wild even, and his typically messy hair was flat, greasy and lank.

"Nice to know that I look how I feel," he chuckled. The sound was a little rusty, as though he hadn't laughed for a long time. Refusing to meet her eyes, he said, "I'm sure, as it was splashed all over the _Prophet_, that you know what I did to Ginny."

"I know what you did, though I've never been able to make sense of it. Why, Harry?"

"Hermione, I thought she was Bellatrix. I didn't realise who it was until it was over. Charlie forced the story from her when she arrived in Romania and had me arrested. The Ministry tried to keep it quiet, but Rita Skeeter got a hold of the story. You know the rest."

"Have you stopped drinking?" Hermione had never been one to sidestep sensitive issues.

"Just this morning. After I wrote you, I threw my entire stock in the fire – almost burned down the house, actually." He gave a wry laugh.

"You know, Harry, you still haven't told me why you asked me to come over," she reminded him.

"I need her. I knew where she was hiding, but I couldn't bring myself to have her run out on me again. It was easier to hide in front of my fire and drink the memories away. But she haunts my dreams, Hermione. You're her best friend. Surely you can talk to her, see what she thinks about me?" he made the last a question.

"I really think this is something you should approach her about yourself," she told him.

"I don't know how!" he shouted, suddenly angry. Fear flooded Hermione's eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Harry, I don't know if I can help you. Ginny is happy – or she was, until Smith Contracted her. Romania is where she belongs now. You've got to let her go," she finished. Before Harry could utter the angry retort clearly on his tongue, the door burst open and Ron flew into the room, Ginny on his heels.

Bypassing Ron entirely, Harry whispered, "Ginny?" Her curt reply stopped him midway through standing.

"Hermione, we're leaving now," Ron ordered.

"No, Ronald, _we_ aren't. You are." Interrupting Ron, who opened his mouth to protest, she continued. "Neither of you were invited. You had no business coming here tonight."

"Do you know what _he_ did to my sister?" Ron demanded.

"Yes, I do. But he wasn't in his right mind when it happened –"

"And he would appreciate it if you would stop talking about him as if he isn't in the room," Harry inserted good-naturedly.

"Sorry, Harry," Hermione said, grinning in the old way. "Ron, as I was saying, Ginny has forgiven him, and I think that you should as well."

"You have?" Harry asked, turning to the young woman still standing in the open doorway.

"I have, Harry, but I will never forget it, nor can I move past it. Please, don't ask me to come back," she finished at a whisper.

"Of course not," Harry lied.

"Am I still in the room?" Ron bellowed, looking between Harry and Ginny.

"Perhaps we should leave, Ron," Hermione suggested.

"Great idea. Come on, Ginny, we're leaving," he said.

"I'm not leaving yet," she responded haughtily.

"I'm not leaving you alone with that prat!" He had begun to shout again.

"You do realise, brother dear, that Harry was your best friend for more than 10 years, don't you?"

"I don't care! He almost killed you! How can you defend him?" Ron demanded.

"I'm not defending what he did, Ron. I'm just trying to make you see that it was a long time ago and you're overreacting."

"Ron, we're leaving," Hermione insisted. "Now, Ron!" she added when he didn't move.

"Fine. She can stay here. Maybe he'll actually kill her this time!" With that, he grabbed Hermione by the arm and stormed out the door. Hermoine looked back desperately before her face disappeared.

Before Harry could speak, she began, "I wanted to stay for a moment, because I wanted to speak to you without Ron interrupting. I have forgiven you, Harry, I really have. I know that you were confused. But I am never coming back. You frighten me. I love you dearly, but I can't live in fear for the rest of my life, constantly looking over my shoulder to make sure you aren't there with your wand drawn. Good-bye, Harry," she whispered.

"Ginny, please," he begged. "I need you. Please don't go. I've stopped drinking, I'll do anything you want, just stay."

"I'm sorry, Harry. I can't," she murmured. She walked across the floor to where he stood, hands limply at his sides. She placed a soft kiss on his lips and walked out the door. She Apparated to Hermione's house immediately.

"Ginny," Harry sighed. He turned and climbed the stairs to his long-disused bedroom. As he settled, fully dressed, under the mouldy covers of the bed , he planned his next moves.

Ginny Apparated to the bedroom she always used to avoid Ron and Hermoine. She could hear Ron's voice, raised in anger, and Hermione's soothing murmur. "Harry," she sighed. How could she still love him after all of these years of running from him in terror? How could she still dream of a happily-ever-after with him after the things he'd done? She collapsed on her bed, overcome by silent, racking sobs.

"Ron, Harry was your best friend for years. How can you desert him now, when he's finally reaching out for help?" Hermione asked.

"What about Ginny? Huh? What about the things he did to her? For heaven's sake, Hermione, he raped her and then nearly killed her!" he bellowed.

"He's disturbed. He needs our help. We can't just abandon him!" she insisted.

Ron let out a sigh. "He just isn't Harry anymore. He's turned into one of those monsters he worked so hard to destroy."

"I think you should take a long, hard look in the mirror. Ronald Weasley would never desert a friend. Do you even know yourself?"

"He deserted me!" Ron shouted.

"You've always been this way – selfish. It's always been about what's been done to you! Well, what about you. You've never once asked me to marry you, though we've been dating for nearly seven years. You still go out nearly every night, drinking with friends and staying out until all hours. You still haven't applied for Auror training, though you made the required grades and have the required gender!"

"He thought she was Bellatrix Lestrange," Ron said, ignoring her list. "Hermione, he thought she was a woman you killed years ago. He's mental."

Clarity hit Hermione suddenly. Ron would never mature; he would never grow up. For all her years, if she married him, she would have to deal with his stubborn, childish selfishness. Mustering all of her considerable courage, she made a decision.

"Ron, I think you should leave. I'm helping him. He was my best friend, too. He abandoned me, too. If you can't see that, then this is the end."

"Fine!" Ron stomped out of the house, slamming the door as he left. Hermione sat in the seat he'd vacated and sobbed. Had she really just broken up with Ron over Harry? She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder.

"I heard," came Ginny's voice. Hermione thought it sounded a bit teary. The younger girl wrapped her arms about her friend as they wept together.

"I didn't know you were here," Hermione said, regaining her composure.

"I couldn't bear Mum's inevitable questions. Ron will come around, Hermione. I know he will," she reassured.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. She didn't believe her, but accepting it seemed to be the quickest way to be alone. "You're welcome to stay as long as you like. I'm going to bed."

"Sure, get some rest," Ginny said. Hermione stood and left the room. She managed to reach the confines of her bedroom before the tears fell again. Fear overwhelmed her. If Ron withdrew his claim, she would be forced to marry Percy or Viktor. While she was fond of them both, neither of them were exactly her dream husband. Silently weeping, she changed into a nightgown and climbed between her sheets. It was many hours before she finally fell into an exhausted sleep.


	6. 5 Return

Ginny sat in the wooden chair at Hermione's breakfast table, reading the job advertisements in the _Daily Prophet_. The Ministry was looking for Aurors. Even if women were allowed into the office, working with Zacharias did not appeal. Granted, if the Ministry hadn't forbidden women in the first place, he would probably have never been able to become an Auror. It seemed to her that the fall of Voldemort was setting the community back several hundred years; forbidding women in Law Enforcement, arranged marriages in which the female had no voice. Ginny wouldn't be surprised if more absurd laws were passed in the coming years. Many times, a country couldn't function properly for a few decades after a war. It seemed the Magical Community was having that problem.

Sighing, she continued to read. It looked like Hogwarts was in need of a Potions professor. Dimly, Ginny recalled reading about Slughorn's death at the beginning of the summer. She decided it was a possibility. She'd always been more than a fair potioneer. She could stay at Hermione's house in Hogsmeade during the summers and spend the rest of the holidays at the Burrow. Further perusal provided her with several other possibilities. Gringotts was searching for Curse Breakers and Muggle Money Recirculators. Ollivander's, reopened after the war, was looking for a wand maker's apprentice, and the Three Broomsticks was for sale. The announcement that Madam Rosmerta was marrying Aberforth Dumbledore that weekend had been on the front page. As the wedding had been planned before the law was passed and they were both past childbearing age, they were exempt from the decree.

Vaguely, Ginny thought of her account at Gringotts. There was a fair amount of gold in it, but not nearly so much that she could buy the pub. Perhaps she could get a loan. She sighed. It was time to go home. Her mother was going to have a fit as it was that she hadn't returned to the Burrow as soon as she received her Contract. Leaving her trunk at Hermione's, she Apparated home.

Ron awoke in his tiny flat. Dean had stayed out all night at Pansy's, for which Ron was eternally grateful. He still wasn't sure how, exactly, that relationship had begun. She'd fought with the Order during the war, he knew, and she was the Half Blood daughter of Jason Parkinson, a Healer at St. Mungo's, and a Muggle woman he'd met in France many years before. From the time they'd arrived in London, married and pregnant, Pansy's mother had pretended to be a witch of little talent. Voldemort, however, had detected the lie and ordered her mother to be murdered. Pansy had watched her love, Draco, destroy her mother. When he'd turned his wand on her, she'd Stunned him without hesitation and fled to Hogwarts, where she'd begged McGonagall for protection.

Two years ago, Dean had begun to date her. He never told Ron how it had come about. Pansy was an Unspeakable at the Ministry. Though many of the Ministry's studies had become public knowledge during the war, the project that Pansy worked on had not. That was all she was able to tell them. Ron still had a few qualms about trusting a turncoat Slytherin, but he kept his reservations to himself.

He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, elbows on his knees. He'd walked out on the only woman who was ever likely to love him, because he couldn't forgive his former best friend. In the cold light of day, Ron realised what a foolish decision he'd made. Standing, he decided that there was only one thing to do. He dressed quickly and Disapparated.

Harry awoke, feeling more refreshed than he had in years. Putting his plan into action, he began to pack a small valise with two sets of robes, his personal hygiene items, and a small box. He dressed in his finest robes, made of Kelly Green silk. Looking down at himself, he realised he still looked rather shabby. Hurrying to the bathroom, he pulled out his razor. He glanced at the blade; it was dull and rusted . He returned to his bedroom and retrieved his wand from under his pillow.

His hands were shaking as he pulled it out. He needed a drink. Eyeing the dim figure of Severus Snape in the corner of the room, he decided he'd pass on the firewhiskey. Ignoring the dead man, he returned to the bathroom. He cast a cleaning charm on the blade and watched the rust disappear. A quick sharpening charm put a fine edge on the previously dull blade. He conjured shaving cream and smoothed it over his skin. Drawing the blade over his face , he watched as months of growth disappeared down the drain. When he was finished, the face staring back at him bore a remarkable resemblance to that of his father. The only differences were the hair and eyes. His black hair now forcibly reminded him of Snape's: lank and greasy . He shuddered.

He stowed his wand in the pocket of his robes and went to the bedroom to retrieve his valise. He ambled down the stairs and tossed Floo Powder on the flames. He stepped into his fireplace and shouted, "The Leaky Cauldron!" The now unfamiliar spinning of the Floo Network rattled him, and he realised irritably that he'd forgotten to remove his glasses. They were sure to be broken.

He got out onto the spacious hearth of the pub that guarded the entrance into Diagon Alley and brushed himself off. The stares that greeted him were reminiscent of those he'd received on his first visit, at eleven years of age. When he'd finally bested Voldemort, the lightning scar that had marred his forehead for so long had disappeared, but he was recognizable even without it. Several patrons quickly dropped money on the bar and scurried out, casting fearful glances at him as they did. He resisted the urge to laugh with great difficulty.

Nodding a hello to Tom, who was looking rather ancient, he passed through the pub and drew his wand. He tapped the brick that revealed the secret entrance into Diagon Alley and an archway appeared. Stepping through it, Harry looked around at the bustling street that carried everything a wizard could ever want or need. He smiled. It was then he realised that his glasses had not, in fact, been broken. His smile grew wider . It seemed that he had finally learned how to travel by Floo Powder properly. He hurried along the street, drawing curious and frightened stares as he went. He finally reached the gleaming white building that housed the wizard's bank, Gringotts. Stepping through the doors, he marched down the marble corridor until he found a desk with an available goblin.

"Harry Potter to make a withdrawal, sir," he told the goblin respectfully. The goblin looked at him curiously for a moment.

"Do you have your key, Mr. Potter?" the creature asked. Harry nodded and pulled the key out of the neck of his robes, where he kept it on a fine silver chain. The desk goblin called another over, and the new arrival led Harry down the stone hall to the tracks that held the carts. Remembering the pace these took, Harry braced himself against the side. The goblin stopped it outside the vault Harry recognised as his own, though it had been a number of years since he'd been to it. He'd always sent Dobby in the past, but the elf had abandoned his post two months before.

The goblin unlocked the vault and handed Harry a leather pouch. Harry took it gratefully. He stepped inside the small room and scooped a fair amount of coins into the bag, then tucked it into his pocket and exited the vault. The goblin locked the door and ushered Harry back to the cart. Within a matter of minutes, Harry was walking down the steps of Gringotts and rejoining the bustle on the street.

Neville sat in his grandmother's fussy parlour. Though she'd been killed in the war, he couldn't bring himself to change the room. It had been her private retreat in life, the place she'd gone to recover her nerves after one of his many mishaps. In this room, he could imagine she'd return at any moment and scold him for invading her sanctuary . He sighed. Luna was off on another expedition with her batty old father. He always felt a little down when she wasn't there.

Luna's father was getting along in years, but he was still determined to provide the community with proof of the existence of creatures like the Wrackspurt and the Crumple-horned Snorkack, however dubious that proof might be. Luna, just as dotty as he, was just as resolved and never failed to join his excursions. Neville thought they were both mad, but he loved Luna very much and so supported her in her journeys, and had even closed Longbottom's Tonsorial Parlour to accompany them once. Luna, knowing of his passion for Herbology, a love that had never abated, often brought him rare species of flora for garden or his greenhouse.

The blue Contract in his hand was momentarily forgotten as he thought of the rare fungus that had attacked his _Mimbulous Mimbletonia_ the prior week. He shook his head violently. He needed to write Luna about the new law and put a Contract on her . He had to make sure that no one else did first. He sighed again and dipped a quill in ink. Tongue between his teeth in concentration, he filled in the Contract and sent it to the Ministry. He pulled out a clean sheet of parchment and wrote an affectionate letter to Luna, begging her to return quickly.

Ginny arrived at Hogwarts early the next day. She'd sent her owl, Mirena, to Professor McGonagall upon her arrival at the Burrow. The owl had returned in record time with an invitation to the Head's Office for an interview. She meandered slowly through the halls, reliving a multitude of memories, before stopping in front of the stone gargoyle.

"Discipline," she said hesitantly. It was the password given in the letter she'd received. The gargoyle moved out of her way and she ascended the stone stairs. Knocking on the door, she entered when bid to do so.

"Good afternoon, Ginevra," said McGonagall crisply.

"Hello, Professor," she answered.

"Ginevra, I've asked you to call me Minerva many times," McGonagall reminded her, eyes glimmering with humour.

"Yes, ma – Minerva," she muttered.

"Sit, please," Minerva said. Ginny did so. "I'm very pleased to see that you've stopped running," she told the younger woman bluntly.

"You were well on your way to become Deputy Headmistress before you left." The stern look she gave Ginny reminded her of late night parties being broken up in Gryffindor Tower. It seemed those days had happened a hundred years ago.

"I'm sorry, Minerva. I didn't mean to leave you in a bind," she apologised.

"It's quite alright, Ginevra. I understood your reasons. Though I believed running was the coward's way, I knew why you found it necessary."

Ginny said nothing. What was there to say? McGonagall was right. A true Gryffindor would have faced her fears – a true Gryffindor wouldn't have run away from them.

"Ginny," Ginny started at the use of her nickname. "The position is yours if you truly want it."

"I do. I appreciate this, Minerva. I won't let you down again." Shaking hands with her new boss, Ginny exuberantly exited the office.

"No, my girl, I don't believe you will," McGonagall muttered when the door had closed behind her.

"A wise decision, Minerva," came a voice from the wall behind her.

"Thank you, Albus," she replied, turning to face the portrait with a smile.

Harry's first stop was Longbottom's Tonsorial Parlour . Neville froze in the middle of his greeting as he realised who had come for a visit.

"Harry?" he squeaked.

Harry hid the grin that threatened. Of course Neville would feel awkward in this situation. "Hello, Neville," he said cheerfully. "I need a haircut, rather desperately, as you can see." He sat in the chair.

"Uh – of course, H-harry," he stuttered. Over the course of the hour it took Neville to be satisfied with the results of an old-fashioned, hot lather shave, sharp, silver scissors and a splash of bay rum, he and Harry managed to get reacquainted. The discussed the new law, and Neville confessed that he'd Contracted Luna. Harry smiled at that, paid his old friend, said good-bye and left.

He made his way to Madam Malkin's and browsed the racks of various coloured robes. The old woman was busy with a customer, so Harry selected several sets of plain work robes and a new set of silk dress robes. The new dress robes were so fine that the silk could be torn by a dull fingernail.

Madam Malkin staunchly refused to make any alterations to Harry's robes. It wasn't until Harry promised her several hundred Galleons that she agreed to sell them to him at all. Even still, she worked more quickly than he'd ever seen her do. In a matter of mere minutes, she'd completed the five robes and stood, arm outstretched, awaiting the promised payment. Harry counted fifty Galleons and removed them from the bag. He tossed the pouch to the anxious woman and strode from the shop, his new black dress robes billowing behind him and a bitter taste in his mouth. He slipped the remaining coins in valise with his new robes and Apparated to the Ministry of Magic.

Percy paced his office. He'd done this a rather lot in recent days. When he'd Contracted Hermione, he'd expected a challenge from Ron, but he hadn't expected one from Krum as well. He knew he'd beat Ron in a dispute trial, but Krum was another matter entirely. He heard the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him and turned rapidly.

"Harry? What are you doing here?" Percy was struck by how handsome Harry looked, his new robes shimmering, hair clean, gleaming, and back to it's usual untidiness. His eyes were no longer cloudy and unfocused and the pleasant scent of bay rum replaced the stench of liquor that had hung about him like a cloud for so many years. Percy noticed the younger man's eyes scanning the room. Harry resolutely turned his back on the corner nearest the door before he spoke.

"I've come to ask for a favour," he said. The Junior Assistant to the Minister stared, open-mouthed, at the man that had once been the Boy Who Lived.

Hermione heard the buzz of gossip before her office door opened. In the doorway stood Harry, looking so like the Harry of Hogwarts that a lump came to her throat . He flicked his eyes to a corner and gave a grim smile. Refusing to look around the room, his green eyes settled on her instead.

"I've gotten a job," he said, the smile changing to smug.

"Really?" she squealed, jumping to hug him.

"Really. Percy spoke to the Minister and MacMillan. It's all worked out. I start tomorrow."


	7. 6 The Final Contract

Ginny awoke on August 31 with a supreme weight of dread pressing over her heart. That evening she was due to report for duty at Hogwarts. It was also the last day for Contract submissions; she'd received only the one. Her choices were limited. She could either submit to the marriage to Zacharias Smith or to the hell of Azkaban. Shivering slightly, she dressed slowly, selecting her plainest work robes. She clambered down the stairs to the kitchen that held so many pleasant memories.

To her surprise, Hermione was there, sitting at the table and chatting animatedly to Mrs. Weasley. Noticing Ginny, she smiled warmly.

"I thought you might like some company," she said.

"For what?" Ginny asked rather sharply.

Unfazed, Hermione answered, "For your blood tests, of course. The whole office is buzzing about it. Granted, they were sure Harry would hex Smith as soon as he showed up for work that first day, but since he hasn't, the latest gossip is that you'll jilt Smith and run off with Harry."

"That's absurd!" Mrs. Weasley declared. "Ginny will marry that nice Zacharias boy and be very happy, I'm sure."

Ginny rolled her eyes at her mother. Since her father's death in the war, her mother had gone from sharp as a tack to a bit spacey. She stood, gave her mother an affectionate hug and jerked her head towards her bedroom. Hermione got the hint, for she followed Ginny up the stairs.

"I'll have the tests done," Ginny said as soon as the door closed. "Hopefully, they'll come back saying that Smith and I will have a houseful of Squib babies and I won't have to marry him."

"But then you'll have an arranged marriage." Hermione shuddered.

"Who's worse than Smith?" Ginny asked grimly.

"You know," said Hermione, "If you just went to Harry and asked him to Contract you, he'd do it. He'd even let you make the rules. You could live at Hogwarts and stay with your mother during the holidays. You'd never have to see him again, and at least it would be better than being married to Smith."

"And you know this how?" Ginny asked speculatively.

"I know Harry. He's stopped drinking, Ginny, and he's an Auror now. The Ministry trusts him and Ernie McMillan says he's the best in the department," Hermione reasoned.

"Shows how smart Ernie and the Ministry are," Ginny replied wryly. At that moment, an owl carrying a blue scroll flew into the room. "Oh, no," she moaned softly. She took the scroll and the owl left. She resolutely marched down the stairs and tossed the unopened scroll into the roaring fire.

"Let's go," she told Hermione, who had followed her to the kitchen.

"Go where," she asked befuddled.

"St. Mungo's," Ginny answered. Mrs. Weasley entered the room. She barely had a chance to wave to the girls before they had Disapparated. She sat in a chair and summoned her knitting.

Hermione and Ginny entered the wing devoted to the new, magical blood tests at St. Mungo's. They hadn't spoken as they walked down the corridor. Ginny knew that Hermione's mind was focused on the legal ramifications in store for burning an official Ministry document.

It was no wonder she was surprised when Hermione spoke. "You know, the Contracts don't burn. Didn't you notice, at Harry's, the blue page in the ashes of his fireplace?"

Ginny swore. She could tell Hermione was stifling a giggle. "Go on. Let it out." Hermione laughed loudly enough to draw stares. Ginny chuckled.

"Miss Ginevra Weasley," a young witch called from a doorway. Muttering, "What was Mum thinking?" Ginny crossed the room and entered the ward. Four plush and comfortable chairs lined each wall, a smiling witch standing before each one with a wand in one hand and a small vial of potion in the other.

Ginny was led to the first chair on the right. The witch stood before her, smiling in what Ginny felt was a very sinister manner.

"Now dear," the elderly woman began, "If you will be so kind as to sit, we can get this done quickly and as painlessly as possible. Good girl," she muttered when Ginny sat down. "Now, stick out your left arm, palm up. I'm going to place the tip of my wand at the bend in your arm while you drink this potion. A small prick of the skin, a simple Blood-drawing Charm and you'll be done."

"What potion is that?" Ginny asked apprehensively.

"Just a simple Blood Replenishing Potion. We need quite a bit of blood, you see." A few minutes later, the procedure was complete. The elderly Healer tapped the wand and it closed. Ginny rapidly left the room. Hermione was still waiting for her turn.

"I'd love to stay, but I have to pack for Hogwarts," she told her friend.

"Go on. Go home and read that Contract." Hermione laughed and Ginny had to join in. Hermione knew her far too well.

When she arrived at the Burrow, her mother was placidly knitting and Winky had lunch cooking. To prove Hermione right, as always, a blue scroll lay unmarred in the ashes of the morning fire. Ginny retrieved it hesitantly. She unfurled the scroll and searched quickly for the name she knew she'd find. There it was, scrawled at the bottom of the page: Harry Potter.

The following week, Ginny received an owl in her study at Hogwarts. The letter informed her that the blood tests she'd recently had done had validated both of her Contracts and she was required to attend a Dispute Trial on October 1.

After reading the Contract, Ginny had climbed the stairs and muttered a spell to pack her trunk. She'd sent a letter to Abigail's, the Potions shop in Diagon Alley, with a list of ingredients and supplies she wanted. She'd sent her trunk on to Hogwarts and joined her mother for lunch. Afterwards, she'd Apparated to the Three Broomsticks, now owned by the Patil twins, where the Annual Start of Term Meeting was held.

Batty old Trelawney, madder than ever, had been there, three sheets to the wind on sherry as usual. Viktor had looked at her appraisingly. Flitwick, still teaching Charms and heading Ravenclaw, had smiled reassuringly, obviously pleased to see her return. Marianne Bennett, the Transfiguration teacher and Brandon Willoughby, the Care of Magical Creatures professor had also seemed pleased to meet her. Professor Binns and Professor Vector had glanced at her disapprovingly, but Colin Creevey, who had taken on Muggle Studies, was grinning from ear to ear. Ancient Runes had been taken by an old witch, recently come out of hiding, Emmaline Vance. Professor Vance had spared her the quickest of smiles before returning to her conversation about Squib births with Viktor.

The meeting had been rather lengthy, but it had settled many questions certain members of staff had regarding Ginny's return, Viktor especially. He was the only one who knew of the month she'd hidden in the inn above the Three Broomsticks. That had been the time she'd dated him, foolishly, she now realised. She'd read about Harry's release from Azkaban one morning and gone to find Viktor, to tell him she must return to Romania, only to have him break up with her instead.

Ginny sighed. She'd had to coordinate with Viktor so that the N.E.W.T.-level students were being taught the same degree of defence and potions. That had taken most of the past week, and now this: a dispute trial between Harry and Smith. She wasn't sure who she'd rather have win. Regardless, she'd spend most of her time at Hogwarts, but each professor was allowed a visit to their spouse every fortnight. She shuddered. The thought of spending a night with either of them every two weeks was terrifying. Perhaps she could just live at Hogwarts permanently? But no, it said something about that in her letter. What was it? She reread the letter carefully.

_Dear Ms. Weasley,  
The Contracts issued by Harry Potter and Zacharias Smith have been validated on the results of your recent blood tests. You are hereby summoned to a Dispute Trial on October 1 at 10 AM. During this Trial, the Contracting Males will present evidence to justify their claims and you will be required to make an argument for your choice of your suitors. A Ministry delegation of seven members of the Wizengamot will retire to decide upon the most suitable marriage for you. After this trial, you will have one month in which to complete the ceremony to legalise your nuptials._

As a Hogwarts Professor, you are granted special leniency in the cohabitation requirements. You must only reside with your husband during holidays. Throughout the remainder of the year, you are permitted to remain at Hogwarts and fulfil your duties there.

Congratulations on your upcoming marriage.

Augustus Pye  
Chief of Contracts

With a heavy heart, she left her study to join the school for breakfast. Her trial was on a Saturday, and she'd received word from Hermione prior to the Ministry owl arriving. Hermione's Dispute Trial was at 8 AM the same day. 

With a heart weighed down with leaden doom, Hermione dressed very carefully the morning of her trial. The Contracts Delegation would decide her fate this day, choose the man she would be bound to for the rest of her life, and she had no recourse. Giving the mirror a final glance as she smoothed her robes, she nodded in approval. Her hair was smoothed in to a neat bun, compliments of Sleekeazy's, and her royal blue silk robes were immaculate. She Apparated to the Atrium and traversed the long corridors.

It was time.


	8. 7 Trials and Tribulations

Ginny sat in the gallery of courtroom twelve. The Delegation was assembled at a table near the door, facing the gallery. She realised, from Harry's account of his trial in this courtroom, that under normal circumstances, the suspect would sit where the council was currently sitting. The chained chair he'd described was missing, but there were two small tables in front of the Delegation. The chairs at these tables were facing away from the spectators.

It was ten till eight and Hermione's trial was due to begin shortly. Ginny felt a wave of pity for Hermione, as well as many others. Poor Luna was to have an arranged marriage. Neville's Contract had been rejected; they were both Purebloods. The arranged marriages would be settled after the Trials were complete. It had been announced that the Delegation could reject all Contracts if an effective argument was not brought forth at the Trial.

Hermione was escorted by a tall man with tousled hair. Ginny's heart gave a leap before she could subdue it. Harry looked so like his old self that she felt she could weep. He led Hermione to her seat at the table on the left, kissed the top of her head, and joined the others in the gallery.

Hermione shivered slightly as she watched Viktor, Percy, and Ron enter the courtroom. The three men sat at the other table and Alastor Moody, newly appointed Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, stood.

"Mr. Percival Weasley, Mr. Ronald Weasley, and Mr. Viktor Krum, you are here today to defend your claim on Ms. Hermione Jane Granger." Moody's face was taut with distaste. He'd verbalised his opinions on the absurdity of slowly stripping witches of their rights in the community many times in the recent months – particularly those leading up to the trials. As Chief Warlock, however, he was bound to this duty, and the Ministry was bound, thanks to its own law, to have him perform it. He'd made sure, in previous Trials, that each witch's voice was heard.

"Mr. Krum, you're first," Moody said, barely containing the dislike in his voice, and pointing to a slight dent in the stone floor. He sighed and sat. Hermione nervously bit the nail on her index finger as Viktor stood and crossed to the depression. "Now, Mr. Krum, please tell the Delegation why you think you should be the one to marry Ms. Granger." Moody's voice barely disguised his distaste. Hermione's heart leapt. If Moody was against the Marriage Contracts this much, perhaps she could convince him to let Ron win.

"Herm-own-ninny and I haf been friends for many years. Ven I first came to Hogvarts, I vos a Quidditch player and a Trivizard Champion. She vos my friend. Ve vent to the Yule Ball together. I came to care very much for her. Ve wrote many long letters for many years. Ven she started to date Ron Weasley, ve vere still friends. Then, I came to Hogvarts to teach. I can profide a good life to Herm-own-ninny. I am in lof with her and have been for a fery long time. I vill make her happy." Viktor sat. He looked pleased with himself, though Hermione could tell that not many in the gallery were impressed with his sentiments. The betrayal of the Durmstrang students during the war still stung most of the community. She was touched that Viktor still cared for her after all these years, but a love that received no encouragement and continued for that long on this level bordered on obsession.

Moody stood again. "Percy Weasley, it's your turn."

Percy stood and addressed the seated witches and wizards pompously. "I've known Miss Granger for many years. She's spent multiple holidays at my family's home as a friend to all the Weasleys. We both understand the importance of law, order and justice, which is why we were both prefects, Hogwarts Heads, and are now employed by the Ministry itself. Miss Granger and I are on the same path in life. It is only fitting that we travel that path together." He bowed in Hermione's direction before returning to his seat. She cringed. Percy was conceited at best, but this bordered on megalomaniacal.

Before Moody could speak, Ron stood.

"I withdraw my claim on Ms. Hermione Granger," he said. He turned and left the room. All eyes watched him go. Hermione's heart felt it would burst. Ron had deserted her.

Moody turned to Hermione. "Ms Granger, please step forward, and tell the court which of your remaining suitors you would prefer."

Hermione frantically tried to think as she walked towards the Delegation. Percy was Ron's brother and choosing him would create trouble with the entire Weasley family. While she didn't much care what the rest of them thought, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were far too important to alienate. Choking back a sob, she began to speak.

"While Mr. Weasley makes some very good points, he is, in fact, too closely related to a former boyfriend for comfort. Viktor is correct. We have been friends for many years, and if this is to be my fate, I would prefer Mr. Krum."

A weight settled on her shoulders. She walked slowly back to her seat, refusing to meet Viktor's eyes, where she knew a glow of triumph would sit, much like he'd get after a good match of Quidditch. Instead, she looked at Ginny, whose eyes held understanding and compassion.

"Thank you, Ms. Granger. The Delegation will now retire to decide the outcome of this Trial. Mrs. Umbridge, if you please?" he pointed to the door, where Delores Umbridge, Court Official, stood. She announced a recess and the spectators began to file out. Hermione ignored both of the men who'd Contracted her and hastened to join Ginny.

"I had to," she said simply.

"I know. I would have done the same," Ginny reassured her.

"Madam Bones, what is your opinion?" Moody asked wearily. He'd been against this ridiculous law from the start. Briefly, he wondered if perhaps the Americans, with their Congress and vetoes, didn't have the right of it. You didn't see such absurdities happening there.

"I'm not sure I'm the best judge," Susan Bones answered. She was the only one of the old class at Hogwarts not affected by this law. Moody had managed to secure exceptions for members of the Wizengamot. "I've never liked Percy Weasley's way of presenting himself – all puffed up like a blowfish with self-importance." Several murmured their assent. "If I must choose, I suppose I'll have to pick Krum – though there's something about him I just don't like."

"It's a pity," put in Madam Dashwood, "That the youngest Weasley boy had to run out like that. Argument or no, he and Granger have been at it for years. I would have picked him over the other two."

"What is Percy doing Contracting his brother's girlfriend, anyway?" Remus Lupin asked. He'd finally managed to secure a position in the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures, thanks to Hermione, and was now on the Wizengamot. Moody knew that Lupin, like the others, was against the law – it was why he'd selected them for this Delegation. They were more likely to sympathise with the poor lasses the Ministry was steamrolling.

"We are agreed then?" he asked. Six heads nodded. The Delegation filed back into the courtroom.

Ron left the Ministry, heading straight for the Leaky Cauldron. He paid all the gold in his pocket for a room and a bottle of firewhiskey. Today there were no thoughts of becoming like Harry. Today, he just wanted to forget.

He tucked the bottle under his arm and climbed the stairs, entering the spartan room a few moments later. He slipped, fully dressed under the dingy covers and brought the open bottle to his lips.

By the time he lowered it, the bottle was nearly empty and his cheeks were moist. He downed the rest quickly and sobbed, pulling the blanket roughly over his head. The clock in Diagon Alley struck ten.

Ginny clutched Percy's arm. He didn't appear to be heartbroken about losing the Trial. He seemed almost relieved, actually. Ginny didn't much care at the moment. She was just grateful that she wouldn't have to walk in alone. Ron was supposed to have escorted her, but, after his dramatic exit, she didn't blame him for skipping it. Hermione was likely to hex him for what he'd done, and Hermione's hexes were no joke.

Viktor had won, of course. He was now seated in the gallery with Hermione, apparently trying to whisper sweet nothings in her ear, while she swatted at him as though he were an irritating fly. It was Ginny's turn. She gave Percy a consoling kiss on the cheek before sitting down in the seat recently vacated by Hermione.

Zacharias walked in, followed closely by Harry. He waved to Hermione and Viktor and took his seat. Umbridge swelled importantly as she announced the start of the Trial. Ginny had to stifle a laugh; she looked so like the toad Harry had been wont to compare her to during her brief sojourn as Defence teacher at Hogwarts. Her laughter died instantly as Moody called Smith up to testify.

Ginny barely listened. In just a few minutes, she would be asked to make a choice, to make an argument for one of the two men at the other table. One would take pleasure in making her life a hell on earth, while the other –

"Mr. Potter, it's your turn," Moody's voice cut into her thoughts. Momentarily startled, she looked up. Green eyes, full of love, caught hers for the briefest of moments before they turned to face the table.

_Oh, Harry._

"Members of the Delegation, I know you are predisposed against me. I've done horrible things, as you've all read. Of course, Rita Skeeter is the most reliable reporter in the community. You can take everything she writes as strictest fact," Harry said winningly. The Delegation chuckled and several members of the gallery laughed.

_They love him,_ she thought. _They're eating it up. Oh, Harry, why are you doing this?_

"For many years, Ginny Weasley (who hates to be called Ginevra, by the way) was my friend, my lover, and my partner in all things. She helped me defeat Voldemort. She stood by my side when others deserted me. I destroyed that one night, long ago, when I'd had too much to drink. I've stopped drinking, as her brother, Ron, will confirm – or he would, if he hadn't made a fool of himself by running out of the courtroom." More laughter followed this statement. "It was Ron who stayed at my side during the weeks it took me to regain my sense of self and the world – to rejoin the human race, as he put it."

"Thanks to him, I am now a contributing member of this community, an Auror, and I am ready to begin a family. I've loved Ginny since our Hogwarts days. I only ask that you grant me the privilege of caring for her in a manner consistent to what she deserves."

Several people applauded as Harry took his seat. Ginny stood before Moody could ask her to. She knew what she had to do. She ignored Harry's charming smile and began to speak.

"Zacharias Smith has always been my enemy. When I read the Contract he placed on me, I came back to England for the first time in many years and marched into his office at the Ministry to hex him. His co-workers applauded me. However, I fled England to Romania to escape from Harry and the things he did. I choose neither."

A slight murmur began in the courtroom, quickly swelling to an astonished uproar. Moody rapped on the table for silence. Ginny could feel the eyes of the entire court on her.

"I ask that the Delegation, in its wisdom, instead, decline both Contracts, and," she faltered. The next words were so bitter she could barely spit them out. "And arrange a suitable marriage with someone else."


	9. 8 Here Comes the Bride

Harry sat in a dark corner of the Three Broomsticks with Ron. After winning the Trial yesterday, he'd searched for his newly restored friend. For that was what had happened: Ron had been waiting on Harry's doorstep when he'd returned from the Ministry after asking Percy for two favours. The first, keeping Harry's Contract until the final day of submissions, was really just an exchange – payment for the silence Harry had kept for many years. The second had, of course, been the recommendation for the job at the Ministry. Harry knew that Percy would call in the second favour one day.

Ron had been in shambles that afternoon. He'd made Harry tell his own version of the events that transpired that night. Then, he'd explained the argument with Hermione. Harry had apologised for contacting her for help and, consequentially, being the cause of their break-up.

"Why did you come here?" Harry couldn't help asking.

"Because she's right, as usual," Ron had grumbled.

Ron had moved in, helping Harry regain his sanity. While Harry wouldn't admit that the shadowy outline of Snape still followed him everywhere, Ron's nearly constant presence had enabled Harry to regain his confidence. He had come to accept the reality of Snape's death: if he hadn't killed Snape, Snape would have killed him. Harry had even managed to convince Oliver Wood, Head of the Department for Magical Games and Sports, to offer Ron a 'real' job. He was now a professional Quidditch referee. They'd helped each other get through the unpleasant weeks before the Trials.

Now, here they sat and Harry watched as Ron quickly drained his second butterbeer. Reluctant to sound like a hypocrite, he kept his concerns to himself.

"Take care of her," Ron ordered.

"I will, Ron. I promise." There was no need for Harry to ask what Ron meant.

Ginny had taken the outcome of the Trial with a characteristically calm demeanour. Harry wasn't fooled; the blaze in her eyes was one he knew all too well. In Hogwarts days, it had signified her determination to stay by his side regardless of his objections. In the years that followed, it had been a precursor to an argument – and Ginny could argue with the best of them. In fact, Harry wasn't much looking forward to the one he knew was coming.

"Hey." Ron jabbed Harry and pointed at the door.

Hermione and Ginny had just walked in and were removing their cloaks. Harry looked around hopefully. He was in luck; there were no empty chairs save for the two at their table. He watched the two women have a brief discussion before wending their way through the labyrinth of tables. They bustled around for a moment before Hermione took the seat next to Harry, leaving Ginny to sit next to her brother.

Harry preferred this arrangement as it allowed him to see Ginny's face more clearly. An uncomfortably quick round of greetings ensued before silence fell. It was clear that, despite years of friendship, no one could think of a word to say. Ginny finally broke the silence.

"So, who hates the Ministry besides me?"

Harry laughed, as did Ron and Hermione; the tension eased. They sat around the table, much as they had in Hogwarts and after, drinking butterbeer and laughing. Harry was happy to see Ginny smiling; she even tossed a comment or two in his direction. Hermione and Ron were being oddly formal with one another, but he supposed that was only natural – they'd always gotten that way after a row.

Seamus Finnegan sat down in a corner and pulled out a guitar. He'd convinced Parvati to allow him to sing at the pub on weekends. His songs were a mix of traditional Muggle Irish and Scottish folk songs, as well as some rather bawdy pub songs he'd learned from his father. As most of the community had never heard such things before, he was drawing record crowds. People from all over the country came to sing along and drink with him.

By the end of the night, there were more than two dozen butterbeer bottles littering the table. Harry was amazed they'd had so much to drink, but with Seamus singing those absurd songs, it had been impossible to abstain. It had also been the most enjoyable time he'd had in many years. Now, however, Hermione and Ginny were looking tired, and Harry thought of a way to get Ginny alone.

"Ginny, I'll walk you back to Hogwarts. I'm sure you've got a class to teach in the morning," he offered. It was a testament to how many of those empty bottles were hers when she agreed. They said good-bye to Ron and Hermione and walked out the door. There was a bit of a chill in the air; the sky was clear and the silence of the night enveloped them. Harry offered his arm to Ginny and felt a rush of pleasure when she linked hers through it.

Ron stared awkwardly at Hermione. What did he say to the woman he loved after the scene he'd made the day before?

"Thank you," Hermione whispered.

"For what?" he asked, confusion evident on his face.

"For helping Harry," she said simply.

"Well, you were right, as usual," he muttered.

"Will you walk me home?" she asked.

Ron looked up and saw a glow in her eyes he'd never expected to see again. He nodded. They gathered their cloaks and walked out of the pub. He felt her fingers intertwine with his. Startled, he braved another glance at her face.

"I'm not married yet," she whispered.

He felt his heart leap into his throat. Her house was only a few steps away.

Hermione's heart pounded. Though she wasn't married now, she would be in a few weeks' time. She knew she was about to betray nearly every scruple she had, but she didn't care. For one night, just this one night, she was going to throw logic to the four winds and make love to the man standing beside her. For one night, she would be happy. She knew it would be the last time she'd ever feel joy again.

When they reached the door and Ron tried to disentangle his fingers from hers, she pulled herself to her toes and brushed her lips to his.

Ron groaned. They couldn't do this; it was wrong. When she stepped away and opened the door, he knew he didn't care. Just this one night, this last time, he would be happy. He would make love to the woman he'd adored for so many years and the devil take the consequences. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Ginny was content, for now, to walk quietly with Harry, comforted by the warmth from his arm. She knew it wouldn't last.

"Harry?" she said quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Why did you do it?" she asked.

"Because I've loved you since you were fifteen, maybe even before that, and I couldn't bear the thought of you marrying anyone else," he said.

"I won't do it," she informed him.

"Why not?" he asked angrily.

"You know why!" she shouted. "I can't pretend it didn't happen! I can't just sweep it under the rug!"

"Haven't I changed enough for you?" he demanded.

"Tell me, Harry," she murmured viciously, "Why won't you look to your left?"

"No reason."

Ginny could tell he was lying.

"You're sure?" she taunted. "Because I'd be willing to bet that Snape is glaring at you from right over there!"

"So what if he is?" Harry shouted. "Isn't it enough that I accept that I had no choice? That I had to kill him before he killed me?"

"That's something, Harry, but it isn't enough," she said sadly.

"Damn it. Why not?" He pulled away from her, stopping just outside the gates of Hogwarts.

"As long as you're still seeing him beside you, watching you, then you haven't changed enough for me to trust that you won't do it again!"

"Fine!" he roared.

Ginny turned, staring at the dark outline of Hogwarts, until she heard his footsteps. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him walking back towards the village.

"Where are you going?" she called.

"What do you care?" he tossed over his shoulder.

"Because, you bastard, I love you!" she shouted at his back.

He turned around to face her. "Well, you've got a funny way of showing it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get a bottle before Padma closes for the night." He glowered at her, daring her to say something.

"But you quit!" she cried.

"Yeah, well, what good did that do me? Good-bye, Ginny," he shouted. "I'll see you next weekend at the wedding."

Sobbing, Ginny made her way back to her study, praying none of the students would see her in such a state.

Hermione dressed slowly the day of Ginny's wedding. She and Ron hadn't been satisfied with just the one night; they'd been together every night since. He was snoring in her bed as she picked her robes.

"Ron, wake up! Viktor will be here any moment to escort me to the wedding and your sister expected you there an hour ago!" she urged.

"Ruddy prat and his stupid beach ball head," Ron muttered. Hermione hid a grin, but quickly sobered. Harry hadn't showed up for work on Monday, and when he'd arrived on Tuesday, his eyes had been bloodshot. Hermione had asked Ginny what had happened, the younger woman sobbed and confessed the entire conversation. It was barbaric that the Ministry would do this, but it didn't surprise Hermione much.

The final Trials had been held the day before, and the arranged marriages would be settled by the end of the week. The Ministry was now batting around an idea to ban women from professional sports. The whole thing was getting out of hand. The thought made Hermione shiver. Something had to happen, and soon, to make the Ministry see reason.

Ron stumbled out of bed, trying to find the robes he'd discarded the night before in his haste, when suddenly, the doorbell rang. Hermione jumped, and Ron abandoned the search and Disapparated, completely naked. Hermione giggled, running downstairs to answer the door.

Ginny stood in front of the mirror in her childhood bedroom. Her robes were white, as befitted a bride, and so light they were nearly transparent. Her hair was curled elaborately and pinned to the crown of her head with Auntie Muriel's tiara. A tear ran down her cheek. She couldn't believe this was happening. Hermione handed her a handkerchief and smiled reassuringly.

"You look lovely," she whispered. "I know this isn't what you want, but you've got to try to make it work."

Hermione's voice held the regret Ginny felt. She was envious of the glow on her best friend's cheeks. Though the entire village of Hogsmeade knew where her brother was spending his nights, it seemed Viktor had remained oblivious. Ginny had suggested that Hermione tell him, hoping it would make him reconsider the marriage, but Hermione disagreed.

Charlie entered the room and told his baby sister, "It's time to go, Ginny."

She knew it would take all of his considerable strength to keep from hurting Harry. As the oldest remaining male member of the Weasley family, Charlie was escorting her. Ron would be escorting Hermione. Percy and the twins were already in the garden, and Ron would be at the bottom of the stairs waiting. Bill hadn't survived the war, but Ginny knew Fleur would be there. Age had softened her, and Ginny had actually grown rather fond of her sister-in-law. Giving Charlie a quick hug, she led the group down the stairs.

Percy sat with the small band of guests. It was nearly all family, save for Remus and Tonks. Though her surname was now Lupin, she couldn't be called anything else. They'd tried Dora, Mrs. Lupin and her full first name, Nymphadora, but nothing stuck. Tonks she'd been and Tonks she'd remain. Luckily, Remus didn't seem to mind.

Percy glanced irritably around the garden. Though he was injured more in pride than in heart by his failure to secure Hermione's hand the previous week, he was still peeved at the world. Due to his position, he could select a bride from the remains of the Contracts, but he couldn't decide who it should be. He knew he could have trusted Hermione to keep his secret, but he wasn't sure about anyone else. A wife would figure it out, of course; she was bound to notice her husband's odd appearances and his lack of presence in the marital bed.

For Percy knew he was in love, and had been for several years, but the nature of his love would shame his family. Nevertheless, he'd arranged another visit to Azkaban for that very afternoon. He was desperate to see his love again. Percy didn't care about former Death Eater status, he loved Draco.

Not that Draco returned his affection – far from it. But it satisfied the darkest part of Percy's soul to hear the younger man's whimpers of pain as he took him. Hermione wouldn't have told a soul, but someone else might, and the penalty for his actions was the Dementor's Kiss.

Harry watched Ginny walking towards him, her eyes cold, and felt the bitterness consume him. He pushed it aside. He was determined to win her; he knew her weaknesses. All he had left to do was exploit them.

Hermione stood with Viktor after the ceremony. She graciously accepted the inquiries into her own wedding plans, but her eyes hungrily sought Ron's in the bustle.

"Herm-own-ninny?" Viktor's voice broke into her thoughts. Her amusement at his inability to pronounce her name had long since worn off, to be replaced by annoyance.

"Yes," she replied, not bothering to hide her irritation, or to even look at him.

"I vould very much like to spend the night vith you," he whispered in what she assumed he thought was a seductive manner.

Reluctant to cause a scene, Hermione looked at him and said very quietly, "You may have won my hand, but that is the only part of me you'll ever possess." She pulled away from him and joined the short line queuing up to kiss the bride.

Viktor watched her walk away with anger. It seemed that Weasley would continue to be a problem. He'd ignored the fact that they were still lovers, assuming Hermione would change her mind once they were married. Now, he knew he had no choice. He'd have to kill the bastard after all.

Ginny entered the house in Godric's Hollow apprehensively. Dobby had returned from her family home when Harry had stopped drinking, and he now had a fire in the grate with two glasses of elf-made wine on the little table between the plush armchairs. Everything was exactly as it had been so many times before. For a moment, Ginny wondered if the only thing that was different was her, but then she saw the empty shelf whichshelf, which had once been home to Harry's bottles.

"Sit, you must be exhausted," came a husky voice behind her.

She wasn't certain if the chills it raised were fear or another, more terrifying, emotion. She ignored them and walked to 'her' chair. Harry followed, as she'd known he would.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way," he whispered. When she didn't answer, he continued. "I'm leaving tomorrow for an assignment and I won't be back for a few weeks. I'm going to bed."

Ginny sighed in relief. He would honour her wishes then. The thought was barely finished when he stood and leaned over her chair. He whispered something into her hair and dropped to his knees before her. He gently lifted her leg and planted a gentle kiss on her ankle. When she pulled away, he stood, sneering.

"You do know, don't you, that I could take you right now, whether you wanted it or not. It's a husband's right."

His eyes were empty as he stared at her, and Ginny recoiled in fear.

"I won't, though," he added. "I'll wait until you ask me to. Until you beg me the way you used to," he whispered, leaning down, his breath hot against her ear. "Do you remember those nights, Ginny? Do you remember the games we used to play until you were panting…gasping…begging?" his voice trailed off.

"Don't," she murmured.

"You used to moan my name, begging me to make love to you," he said softly, licking the side of her neck just below her ear.

Tears forming, she placed her hands on his chest. His eyes lit with satisfaction and he covered one of her hands with his own.

"That's the way sweetheart," he whispered encouragingly.

Ginny simultaneously shoved and stood, knocking him backwards. "Never again," she said shakily and hastened to her room.

Harry sat alone in the drawing room. The fire had long since died and the room was overwhelmed with darkness. It suited Harry. He'd summoned Dobby after Ginny had returned to Hogwarts on her wedding night and demanded a bottle of firewhiskey. As he sat in the dark, he realised he had no one to blame for his lot; even Snape had finally deserted him. Towards the end of the bottle, he decided there was someone to blame after all – it was the fault of his beloved wife that he was back where he'd begun. And he started to plan.


	10. 9 It All Comes Together

Ginny thought about her wedding night before she went to sleep every evening, and she finally reached a conclusion. The past was just that: past. She couldn't hold his former transgressions against him any longer. It was though a weight had lifted. They loved each other and they could make it work. Though she knew he'd lost his job due to his renewed drinking, she was positive that they would find a way to sort it out. For the first time in years, she was free.

Hermione sat at her table, as she had so many mornings before, reading the _Prophet_. Neville and Luna were among the most recent of her acquaintance to make the front page by abandoning their spouses and running off to a foreign country. The Minister was sending Aurors to bring them back to Britain, and, eventually, Azkaban. She sighed.

From gossip at the Ministry, Hermione knew the Minister was at a loss. Forcing the community to marry at its bidding instead of their own will had done nothing except increase adultery rates across the country – not to mention the number of wizards being presented with children from marriages that had never been consummated. Hermione placed a loving hand on her stomach. After Viktor left, she'd tell Ron the news; they might just have to join Neville and Luna in America.

Looking at her watch, she knew she needed to wake Ron. Though he had married Pansy, and Dean had married Padma Patil, Ron stayed with Hermione except when Viktor demanded his bi-weekly visit. Dean, of course, stayed at Ron's home with Pansy, and it was rumoured that Padma had been seen late at night in Godric's Hollow on several occasions. Which reminded her, Viktor was due any moment for one of such visits, though she didn't know why he bothered. With another sigh, she stepped into the room and woke up her lover.

Hogwarts was shimmering with permanent icicles in the usual preparations for the holidays. Ginny was exuberantly packing her trunk, thinking of her little niece-or-nephew-to-be and wondering how soon she could convince Harry that she wanted theirs to be a real marriage after all. Perhaps the little one could have a small cousin by next Christmas. Term hadn't ended yet, wouldn't for two more days, but Ginny was too excited to wait. She finished packing and walked quickly down to the dungeons. A N.E.W.T.-level class was due to attempt the Polyjuice Potion that lesson and she wanted to make sure she had the ingredients handy.

The next few days flew by very quickly for Ginny. The majority of the students returned to the Hogwarts Express to visit their families for the holidays, and the remainder of them curled up in the worn comfort of Hogwarts' many armchairs for a fortnight of delightful times in the castle. Ginny sent her trunks onward to Godric's Hollow and walked quickly through Hogsmeade, stopping only once she reached Hermione's door.

She'd made up her mind in the long weeks before the holidays that she would throw a house party for Christmas. Merlin knew Harry's house was large enough and a week of friends and family underfoot all the time ought to keep him from the bottle. Once he was sober, she'd simply tell him she'd changed her mind and be done with it. She smiled nervously. _If only it were really that easy_, she thought.

The door opened and a slightly rounded Hermione appeared. "Ginny!" she exclaimed.

Pregnancy suited Hermione. Her face had softened; her hair was much heavier, making it less busy, and even her smile was gentler. Ginny choked down her envy.

"Hi! I can't stay long," she said quickly, dismissing Hermione's gesture to come inside. "I was just stopping by to ask if you and Viktor would be at tonight's dinner or tomorrow's?"

"We'll be there at eight sharp," Hermione told her. "Do you mind if I bring Prongs? I hate to leave her alone for the holidays."

"Actually," Ginny muttered sheepishly, "That's kind of the main reason I stopped by. Would you mind sending her over earlier?" she pled.

"Of course you can borrow her services," Hermione chastised. "She's a free elf, you know…all you have to do is ask her." She summoned the elf and explained the situation.

"Prongs is happy to help Mrs. Potter," came the squeaky little reply.

Ginny smiled: Mrs. Potter. She loved the sound. She hugged Hermione and Disapparated.

When she arrived in Godric's Hollow, she sent Dobby to light lamps while she began to clean the dark, dank house. In the sitting room, she vanished the bottles of firewhiskey from the shelf and set room to rights with a flick of her wand. Prongs was happily preparing dinner for the many guests invited to spend the holiday break with the Potters. Within an hour, the house gleamed and dinner was well on its way to perfection. Harry, however, still had not returned.

Ginny looked anxiously at the clock – it was nearly seven. Hoping he arrived in time to greet their guests, she retreated to the room she'd spent a brief hour in on her wedding night and took great care with her appearance. It was showtime.

Harry Apparated into his drawing room. All the lights were burning and the house was spotless. More importantly, his shelf was empty.

"DOBBY!" he bellowed, the sound echoing through the room. The elf appeared. "What have you been doing?" he demanded angrily.

"Missus Potter, she says we is having a house party. The guests, Harry Potter, sir, is coming any minute," the elf replied, frightened of the smoky tone his master's eyes had taken.

"Nice of her to let me know she was coming home – let alone that we were having a house party," he muttered, feeling distinctly annoyed with his 'wife' at the moment. Clutching a small bag to his chest, he hurried to his bedroom. Part of him wanted to sit there the entire evening and let her pull of her party her damn self. The rest of him was too desperate for even a glance at her to allow him to consider it. Through the wall came the sounds of Ginny bathing. He took a deep breath to calm a wave of desire so strong he wasn't sure he could keep his feet. It didn't work. He took several more, and found himself relaxing. He blocked the noise and hurried to change.

Twenty minutes later, he stepped out of his room to see Ginny standing, resplendent, in the hallway. Her robes were a faint silvery, silky material that floated when she walked. He gulped.

"Harry," she said warmly, holding out her hand, eyes shining with something indefinable.

His heart swelled with hope, but he quickly quashed it. It was too late. "Wife," he replied curtly, taking her hand and leading her down the stairs.

Ron escorted Pansy to the front door of his brother-in-law's house. The short ride in her car was the longest they'd seen each other since their brief marriage the month before. They hadn't spoken. Instead, he'd been remembering the 'meeting' he'd been summoned to in Percy's office that very morning.

The result of the Minister's infuriation with the outcome of his Marriage Law had forced him (in Percy's words) to add a clause to the original decree: any person caught having relations with a person not their spouse would be sent to Azkaban. The Minister wasn't going to wait for couples to run off – he was hiring a new branch of the Ministry. This branch would encompass agents who were to blend in with the crowd, and watch those under suspicion of adultery. When they had obtained proof, they were authorised to arrest and detain until a trial could be arranged.

Percy had urged Ron to comply with the new decree. He, Hermione, Pansy and Dean were the first names on the Minister's list. Ron had gone back home and warned Pansy and Dean of the coming danger, but Pansy, it transpired, was expecting. She and Dean would be leaving for Australia after the house party. Ron understood. He and Hermione were moving to the islands of Hawaii as soon as the party was over.

It was becoming more and more common. Over the two weeks preceding the party, some one hundred people had fled Britain to escape the law. The Ministry didn't have enough Aurors to send after them all. Those were just the ones reported missing. Many more spouses weren't alerting the Ministry at all. They simply waved good-bye and went about their business, the Ministry none the wiser. The Ministry was suffering more than just embarrassment. Employees were abandoning their jobs and disappearing. Nearly half of the Unspeakables were gone, and a quarter of those in all other departments had vanished. Diagon Alley was nearly deserted as people just dropped their old lives to spend their time with the person of their choice in a foreign country. If the Ministry didn't do something, soon the magical community would be all but extinct in Britain – which was precisely what the Marriage Law was supposed to prevent.

Ron reached the door and Harry opened it before he could knock. He led them into the great room, and Ron looked around in amazement. He'd always known that Harry was rich – it was a fact that had made him uncomfortable on more than one occasion during their Hogwarts days. The only thing that had made it bearable was the fact that Harry had never flaunted it – had, in fact, been nearly as embarrassed by it as Ron was. But the Great Room at Potter Lyceum was as grandiose as the old Malfoy manor had been in its day.

The walls were covered in exquisite silk paper, striped in gold, navy and cream, and the floors were a cream marble, polished until it shone, reflecting the light of the crystal chandelier above. The chandelier was brightened by the lights of no less than two hundred candles, and Ron could feel even Pansy gasp in delight at the grandeur of the hall.

Sitting in a grouping of navy velvet sofas and armchairs in a corner were Dean and Padma, as well as Seamus and his wife, Parvati. As far as Ron knew, they were the only genuinely happy couple invited. Hermione and Viktor were nowhere to be seen, but Ron could hear the twins coming up behind them, wives Angelina and Verity in tow. Finally, Ron heard his mother's vague voice weaving through the conversation. A short while later, Charlie arrived with his wife and Fleur. The growling of tummies echoed through the room, and Ron watched the door, waiting anxiously for Hermione and Viktor to arrive.

"Dinner is ready," called Ginny, entering the room. Ron thought his sister looked quite a bit better than she had of late. "Are we just waiting on Hermione and Viktor?"

"Yes, dear," Harry replied. Ron shot a glance at his best friend. He wasn't too sure he liked Harry's tone.

Ginny shuddered at the ice in her husband's voice. It was obvious Harry was still upset about their wedding night some two months ago, but she was determined to make the best of things. She had to stay at his house for the entire fortnight, and she wouldn't be miserable either. Perhaps she should tell him now that she'd changed her mind, she mused as Hermione led her husband through the door. She announced dinner and she and Harry led the way to the formal dining room.

As the hearty, simple fare was served, a buzz of conversation flowed through the room. She reached out with her left hand and drew Harry's arm to her, beckoning him closer. When his ear was level with her mouth, she bent to whisper.

"Harry, I've changed my mind."

"Well, it would be rude to send them all home now. You'll just have to tolerate it," he responded quietly.

"No! Not about the house party, you twit, about us," she whispered, her voice coming out as seductively as she could make it. "Will you help me make this a real marriage?"

_A real marriage?_ Harry thought viciously. _Now she wants a real marriage?_

"It's too late, Ginny," he whispered.

"No, it can't be," she murmured forcefully. "Harry…"she paused, as if gathering her courage. "I'm begging you."

The images conjured by those three words forced Harry to relent. _Besides,_ said the little voice in his brain, _you need her nearby._ He shut it down. He preferred not to think of it at the moment. He looked in her eyes and nodded slowly. Her face lit up, glowing with a happiness he hadn't thought to see there again.

Soon, dinner was over and their guests were following his wife to the Great Hall, where she had arranged for games and cards. Ron immediately challenged Viktor to chess, while Hermione curled up in a plush chair with a book, clearly refusing to get involved in a spitting contest. Harry felt, rather than heard, Ginny's stifled laughter. Seamus brought his guitar downstairs and began to sing the more haunting of his songs; songs of war, of pain, love found and lost, and victory sweet. Dobby and Prongs quietly served drinks.

To Harry, the evening seemed to fly by. Viktor, it turned out, was an excellent chess player, better than Ron even. Ron, of course, was sitting in a corner looking sulky. The other guests were milling about talking and drinking tea or champagne, depending on their tastes. Ginny's eyes met his across the room, the longing in them plainly visible to even his drink-fogged mind. It was time, he decided suddenly. They bid their guests goodnight and walked up the stairs in companionable silence. Fortified by the firewhiskey he'd ordered Dobby to give him, Harry opened the door to his bedroom and followed Ginny inside.

She turned towards him and seemed to glow with her unquenchable love. He quelled the impulse to spare her, to return to civilisation and spend the rest of his life bathing in that light. His life was in ruins, and it was her fault, and he would damn sure make sure she paid for what she'd done to him.

He pulled out his wand with an evil grin and shouted, "_AVADA KEDAVRA_!" A jet of green light illuminated her in the moment before she fell, lifeless, to the ground.

Hermione climbed the stairs slowly. It had been clever of Ginny to arrange for separate rooms for each person, as opposed to each couple. It gave them the chance to choose their companions for their hours of solitude or sleep.

As she passed the door to Harry's bedroom, she heard an indistinct shout, followed by a muffled thud. The next sound to reach her ears sent a bone-chilling rush through her body. Harry was laughing, evilly, maniacally, and without end.

"Ginny!" she shouted fearfully.

Receiving no answer, she blasted the door open and rushed into the room. Harry stood over the unmistakably dead body of his wife, laughing.

"_STUPEFY_!" she shouted, pointing her wand at his heart. He fell and Hermione ran down the stairs to gather the others, sobbing as she went.

Several weeks later, Hermione was sitting comfortably at her small wooden table, two newspapers in front of her. The first was old, dated the day after the horror at the house party, and the headline proclaimed: **MURDER!**

The second was dated that morning, and she was reading it carefully, heart filling with hope and regret.

_After the saddening events of recent months, ending with the murder of a beloved Hogwarts professor, the Ministry has rescinded its preposterous law, freeing hundreds of citizens to return to their homes. Over three hundred witches and wizards fled Britain over the past six months to escape the disastrous effects of the law._

Rufus Scrimgeour resigned yesterday, citing health reasons, and declares he will take a long journey to an island to recover his strength. The community was pleased to welcome Remus Lupin as Minister of Magic. 

_If only this had happened before,_ she thought sadly. Her life was split into before and after. It was on a reverse countdown. _Ginny's been dead for three weeks, two days, and four hours._ The numbers continually updated themselves in her head. The shock had caused Mrs. Weasley to succumb to a catatonic state, lying as though lifeless in St. Mungo's. Hermione sighed. It was time for work.

_Why, Harry? Why did you do this?_

Harry, locked in his cell in the depths of Azkaban, sensed his opportunity had come. Summoning all of his not inconsiderable power, he transformed himself into his Animagus form and felt his body becoming slender. His limbs melded together to form one long, sinuous shape, and a snake slithered through the bars of his cell.

In the upper levels of the prison, he came upon Remus Lupin, newly instated Minister of Magic, there to inspect the security of the prison. Harry reared himself up and sank his fangs into the legs of the man who'd once been his favourite professor. The poison was instantaneous and Lupin crumpled.

Harry glided out of the prison and swam, serpentine, through the water. His destination was London, and revenge on those in his path. Every witch and wizard, regardless of blood, would pay for their crimes against him, for forcing him to become what he was. They would all die.


End file.
